


A Mind Taken Captive

by KaelaByte



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Merlock, Sailorjohn, cause he's cute, just FYI, mermaid, not john though, oh and mermaids do eat people, so I guess kinda cannibalism warning? maybe?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-02-14 20:19:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2201754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaelaByte/pseuds/KaelaByte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When John's ship is stranded near a small island he is surprised to find that pirates might not be the only thing they need to keep an eye out for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Leaning over the side of the ship, John tried to figure out how far the reefs below were from the bilge, already certain that they were far closer than they should have been. His mind wandered as he watched the brightly colored fish flit to and fro amidst the rocks. Allowing himself a few moments to delay his assignment, he relaxed slightly as he followed a small eel with his eyes.

 

For several minutes, he simply stood there, mesmerized by the twisting of the lithe creature as it attempted to search out for prey. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of blue, though it quickly disappeared as he turned his head to follow the sudden movement. Frowning, he sighed and turned back to his ship. Might as well get this over with, he thought sullenly, looking around for the quartermaster.

 

It took several minutes before he spotted Dimmock’s thin form pacing the bow of the vessel. Quickly making his way over to him, John sidestepped the many questions his crewmates threw at him. He certainly didn’t want to be the one delivering bad news to the other men; that could be left to the man who had brought them this far. Bounding up the steps, he stopped at the top and stood for a few moments, waiting for Dimmock to notice him.

 

“Well?” he snapped, stress sharpening his words as he addressed the doctor.

 

“We’re definitely grounded for now, sir,” John responded quietly, face carefully neutral despite the other man’s tone. “Moving forward will wreck the hull, and moving back will be suicide with the holes we have now,” he continued, watching as Dimmock's face fell.

 

“Alright.” The other man sighed, scrubbing his hand across his face. “I don’t suppose you’d like to be the one to tell the Captain?” he asked with a slight chuckle, looking down at him.

 

“Not on your life,” John replied, laughing and backing up quickly to rejoin his mates near the mizzen.

 

OoOoO

 

Lifting his hand to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun, John looked back at the ship several yards away. How do I get myself roped into these things? he grumbled, turning back to the shore. Carefully picking his way across the exposed coral, he gingerly moved across the flats. He looked down at his feet, just in time to avoid stepping on the dark spines of an urchin nestled in a crevice. He really needed to be more careful; the species out here were largely unfamiliar to him, and he didn’t fancy finding out what kind of “home remedies” the other sailors had come up with in the past.

 

Two hundred yards from the ship, he finally made his way to the shallows, though he scanned the water for the small sharks that favor reef beds before easing down. Luckily, it seemed that only small fish had been able to get this far inland. Pushing off of the rocks behind him, he moved into an easy rhythm, feeling the water sluice off his arms as he moved. It had been quite some time since he’d had the liberty of being able to swim; it was seen as bad luck among the deckhands. He’d often scoffed quietly at their insistence that it was better to drown quickly in teh sea than flounder for days. Despite his disbelief, he had kept this particular skill quiet, having learnt in the past that some crews had taken the idea seriously enough to threaten to leave him on the next island they crossed, inhabited or not. However, in light of recent events, it seemed they were willing to overlook the possibility of bad luck if it allowed them a chance to find supplies on the island.

 

After only a few minutes, he was able to stand upright, the water coming up to his hips as he waded ashore. Rubbing his fingers through his hair, he squeezed most of the moisture out as he wandered to the edge of the beach. It didn’t take long to realize that there would be nothing on the island to help them repair their ship. At a distance, it had seemed as though there was plenty of timber on the island; unfortunately, upon closer inspection, it became clear that much of it was unusable. Piles of logs rotted where storm gales had pulled their shallow roots from the sandy soil. Inspecting one of the few that were still standing, John found that the wood was far too soft to create even a temporary fix for the holes in their hull.

 

Further inspection only confirmed his fears, so he set about looking for water; if they weren’t going to be leaving right away, maybe they would at least refresh their stores a bit. Just a half-mile inland, he found a small stream burbling its way up from a hole in a rock. Crouching next to it, he dipped his hands into the water, taking several swallows before rinsing the dried salt from his face.

 

Leaning back, John looked around, wondering if there was anything else the island could offer. Deciding he should check, he allowed himself a few moments to bask in the sunlight that had filtered down through the fronds above him. A few more minutes surely wouldn’t hurt, he figured, stretching out to relax. Soon, his mind began to wander, the sunlight seeping into his skin, warming it as he drowsed.

 

OoOoO

 

Several hours later, he woke with a start, the air around him turning brisk with a night chill.

 

“Shit,” he cursed, scrambling to his feet.

 

There was no helping it now; he had to get back to the ship with nothing to show, all because he couldn’t resist lying around like a glorified house cat. Chiding himself, he took a few moments to reorient himself before striking off for the shore.

 

Luckily, it was still light enough to see as he splashed his way to the reef, clambering over the rocks as quickly as he dared. As he neared the ship, Wiggy caught sight of him, casting down a knotted rope for him to crawl aboard.

 

“Wha’ took ya so long?” he asked, not waiting for John to finish climbing.

 

“Got held up,” John replied curtly, glad he could blame the exertion for the slight blush that tinged his cheeks. “Where’s Cap?” he asked, shivering slightly as he looked around for the blanket he had stowed on deck before leaving.

 

“’Aving a conversation wiv Dimmock,” the navigator answered, stepping back a bit to avoid being splashed as John cast about, finally locating the woolen cover. “But ya should prolly wai’ a few before bargin’ in….” he started, the sentence trailing off as John strode away, the words barely registering.

 

Not bothering to thank him, John walked off quickly, knowing that the longer he delayed, the worse it would be. Wiggins would understand once he was able to explain properly, provided he wasn’t in too much trouble for this transgression.

 

Finding the door to the Captain’s bunk closed, John dawdled just a mnoment before finally raising his hand to pound once on the wood. The voices inside stopped and he heard the creaking of loose floorboards as someone made their way to the door.

 

“Yes?” Dimmock barked gruffly as he pulled the door open roughly, pausing when he saw who it was. “You were expected back quite some time ago, Watson.” The first mate chided, stepping aside so John could enter the room.

 

“Ah. Hmm. Yes,” John stuttered out, pulling his shoulders back on instinct as he laid eyes on Captain Lestrade. Slumped over the small desk they had managed to cram inside the captain’s private chamber, the man looked as though he hadn’t slept in weeks, the bags under his eyes beginning to look as though they were permanent bruises. With greying hair, the man was nearly a decade his elder, though he normally sported his years with grace and energy. Now, his grey-blue eyes were dull, peering out from hair that was beginning to look less disheveled and more like some small creature had taken residence in it.

 

“Well?” Lestrade prompted, his tone clipped.

 

Straightening his back even more, John took a deep breath before answering.

 

“The wood on the island is no good for repairs, sir. However, I did find a source of water,” he added after a short consideration, hoping that this might at least temper the man’s anger at his tardiness.

 

Sighing, Lestrade shook his head minutely, waving a hand to dismiss him.

 

Confused, John waited a moment before leaving the room. The door was quickly shut behind him. It wasn’t like the captain to simply ignore something like leaving post for hours, and while John certainly wasn’t going to complain about the lack of punishment, it did cause him to worry a bit. Glancing around, he went off to look for Wiggy, wondering what the man had been trying to tell him before.


	2. Chapter 2

After some searching John eventually ran into the guard for the evening, tonight it was Anderson, and was told that the rest of the crew was down in the cabins. Making his way below decks he followed the soft chitter of conversation until he came across everyone huddled in a group near Wiggin’s hammock. 

“What’s this about?” John asked, amazed at how many bodies they had managed to fit into the four person room. 

“Wiggy was just tellin’ us about what happened to Scotts.” Stanford said, waiving for John to come and join them.

“What do you mean ‘what happened to Scotts?’” John asked as he stroke over to his bunk, waiting a moment for Charlie to move away.

“Well ya’ see,” Wiggy started, voice conspiratorial in the dimness of the room. “I ‘eard tha’ ‘e was missin’ this afternoon when Dimmock showed up ta get ‘im for guard. Tha’s why Anderson's on deck right now.” Wiggy said quietly, forcing everyone to lean in to hear his words. “in fact, the way I ‘eard it, ‘e's not just skippin’ ou’ on guard du’y, ‘e’s nowhere ta be found.” he finished, a slight smile quirking the corners of his lips as everyone turned to one another, whispers starting near the back as people tried to figure out when they had last seen the man.

John smiled to himself, leaning back into his hammock. Tales like this were all too common amidst sailors. A man wandered off for a few minutes to get some peace and quiet, likely as not he dozed off just as John had earlier, and now there would be rumors that he had been killed or fallen overboard. 

“That’s a load of crap.” James exclaimed, looking around at everyone, “he probably just got into the whiskey and passed out in the stores.”

“No, no, no.” Wiggy assured him. “We’ve searched the ‘ole ship, top ta bottom.” he said firmly, and around him several heads nodded in agreement. “Dimmock sent me and James below decks to make sure.” He said, glaring at the older man. 

James had been aboard more ships than John had years under his belt, easily one of the more respected sailors they had on the crew. It was rare that someone as young as Bill Wiggin’s would challenge what they said. He wouldn’t be doing so unless he were fairly certain as to what he was saying.

Frowning a little bit John finally spoke up. “So what happened then? Sea monster get him?” John joked, trying to get Wiggy to open up a bit more about whatever he might have known. 

“Not per-say, though I wouldn’t be surprised if it weren’t somethin’ unnatural.” Nathan piped up form the back. The short brunette was one of the rigging monkeys hired for this expedition on one of the islands they had recently passed. Though only 16 or so years he had easily surpassed many of the other men who applied for the job up in the ratlines. The small brunette was one of the best story tellers on the boat, and though you could never take his words at face value they always managed to keep just enough truth in them that you were left guessing as to what what had really happened. 

“Unnatural how?” Bones asked as everybody settled back slightly where they were. Months at sea had taught them to know when a good story was coming, the long nights aboard having little else for them to do when not working or cleaning the ship. 

“Well, it’s rumored that around these parts, just close enough to shore that you almost think you could reach it if you just had enough time, that there are creatures lurkin’ about. Not just any creatures, but some of the most devious and evil things that Satan has ever spawned: mermaids.” Nathan said softly, his voice easily carrying to everyone in the small room. 

Sighing slightly John gave up trying to weed information from the men, instead wriggling about a little to try and get comfortable before the story truly set in.

“It is said that all mermaids are beautiful, hair of spun gold or of liquified onyx, eyes shining brighter than any gem you ever did see; and their lips, riper than any fruit from any harbor in the world.” 

The light in the cabin flickered across the rapt faces, eyes distant as each man though of woman they had seen, each on paling in comparison with the beauties they conjured in their imaginations. 

“Slipping through the waves like seals no creature on earth can hope to match their speed, or their ferocity.” Nathan added, looking at each of them in turn. A suffocating silence surrounded them, unbroken by anything other than the gentle splash of the waves, audible even here in the depths of the ship.

“You see, each mermaid is capable of spinning a spell strong enough to capture even the strongest of men. Using naught but their voice they sing a song so beautiful the king himself would shed a tear and attempt to make his way to her. But not all is as it seems. These creatures bring nothing but death where they go, teeth sharp as swords and the strength of ten men. Should you give into temptation and get close enough for them to grab there is no power on earth that could save you.” By now everyone was enraptured by the tale, small sounds of encouragement coming from one or two men, trying to urge Nathan on. 

A small breeze made its way through a crack in the ceiling, causing the hairs on the back of John’s neck to stand on end as he gazed over his crew mates. Though he wasn’t fool enough to believe in such fairy tales it never failed to amaze him how thoroughly one could be pulled into a tale, believing even the most outlandish things; even if just for an instant.

Rolling over slightly to relieve the pressure on his shoulder, stiff from an old knife wound years before, John looked back at Nathan just in time to catch his next words.

“Each night they make their way to the surface, eager to grab ‘hold of any who might be near the shore... or aboard a ship.” Nathan whispered, eyes turned inward as he recalled the tales he had heard during his life as a child skulking around the docks whenever the adults couldn’t be bothered to send him away. “Once your ship has been chosen by a mermaid there is no way to shake them off, they will cross entire seas to follow the ship, not content until every last crew member is dead. Should you ever hear the strains of a melody trailing through the darkness pray to the Lord above that you can make it ashore before she sets her eyes on you. Then resign yourself to a life inland, far from the ocean's waves and the calls of seagulls.”  

Finishing his tale with a low growl of a warning silence reined for several moments before Smee scoffed, pulling everyone form their thoughts.

“Come on now, that’s not at all how mermaids are ya daft berk.” he laughed. “Who ever heard of a woman being able to pull a full grown man down beneath the water? Even a mystical one like that?” he mocked. Several men laughed, calling out jokes and agreements while others shouted back just as loudly against Smee’s declaration. Soon the room dissolved into an argument, each man trying to outdo the other with his knowledge of mermaid lore. 

Rolling his eyes John rolled over allowing his thoughts to drift back to home. He enjoyed his time aboard but a part of him would always long to be ashore, too many things were unknown about the ocean. You couldn’t fight a shark, or save yourself from drowning through strength alone. No. His talents lay more inland, after all there’s only so many people to heal on a ship, and though there were the occasional injuries that were life threatening the majority of what he did was superficial. Carpentry was the real reason he was hired, though he couldn’t find it in himself to enjoy the work.

Back in England he had been a rather noted physician in his town, close enough to the battle fronts with France to be helpful in healing soldiers. He would still be there if he hadn’t been been injured in a fight.

The argument behind him helped to bring the memories of that night flooding back, his sensing recalling how everything had been with little effort considering how often he dwelt on the memory.

The smell of spilt beer had lain heavy in the air at the small tavern, it was more crowded than usual thanks to several ships that had docked, taking shelter from the storm that was quickly ramping up to something that would cause even the most seasoned of captains to quail. 

The extra people brought with them a rather boisterous atmosphere, too many people crammed into too small a place and beer cheap enough for even the poorest of farmers was never a good match; particularly when most were too pissed out of their minds to remember what their own name was. 

As it got later many of the sailors made passes at the owners daughter, a petite blond who had been the heartthrob of many young men in the town. Though she managed to skirt around the worst of the catcalls eventually the men got frustrated, their jokes getting more and more crude with each successful avoidance on her part. 

Right in the middle of the room was a large bloke, scars riddling his arms. Each one from a fight in the past he boasted, claiming to be the victor of each. A dull gleam in his eye left little question as to what had happened to the losers. Eventually he managed to snag the young girl, pulling her roughly into his lap. 

“What’ve I gotta do to get such a pretty young thing to keep me company?” he slurred, the alcohol in his system making him more brash than he might have been otherwise. His friends all jeered, calling out to the girl as she tried to wriggle away from his grip on her skirts. 

John had looked over at the innkeeper, hoping he would intervene before this escalated too much, but the man was busy trying to settle an argument over an unpaid tab across the bar. Standing, John quickly made his way to the center of the room, using his height to his advantage to shove people out of the way, elbowing the few that were dumb enough to push him back.

Eventually he had managed to get the girl form the man, but unfortunately it had caused a small riot he remembered ruefully, the scar tissue on his should twinging slightly as he remembered the feeling of the dull knife pulling through his skin.   
The fight would have been even, John being far less inhibited by spirits as well as being far better trained at fighting thanks to practice on childhood bullies. However, one of the sailor’s buddies had come up behind him during the fight, the knife catching him in the shoulder as he grappled with the larger man.

Though he hadn’t lost any use of his arm, all too common an occurrence he knew, the wound had formed a large gnarled knot of skin on the front and the back of his shoulder. Even years later it would get stiff, never allowing him to completely forget the fight that had caused him to retreat to the larger cities for healing. 

A weight settling next to him on his cot pulled him from his reminiscing, the memories of cold nights and too little money fading slowly from his mind as he turned to see who it as. A shock of orange hair was the first thing to come into focus, the man attached leaning back against the far tie on his hammock.  
"Hey Bones." John grinned, looking at his friend. The red-head moved his feet up to John’s hammock, playfully nudging him with his feet. The two had instantly become friends when John was taken aboard, the round scientist having been studying the various types of birds on the islands for several months aboard Lestrade’s ship. John was instantly attracted to his easy-going manner and quick tongue. Despite his eagerness for learning the man was known to slack off whenever possible, more often found hiding up in the crows nest looking for birds than taking his guard shift. Despite the slack that everyone else had to pick up due to this no one seemed to dislike the man, his habits only getting him his nickname: Lazy Bones, or just Bones for short. John still didn’t know what the man’s true name was, he gave a different answer each time he asked.

“So, do you think Scotts was eaten then?” Bones joked jostling the hammock a bit as he wriggled around, never quite content with sitting still.  
   
John laughed quietly, aware of the others who might believe the tales. “I can’t fully say.” John replied, smirking at the other man, “I suppose we’ll just have to see if he shows up for breakfast tomorrow.” He said, certain that that the man would show for his morning portions. After all, tales were just tales.  
   
“I dunno.” Bones replied, trying to look serious despite the twinkle in his eye. “Seems to me it would be possible.” He said, the scholar in him beginning to show as he recalled various texts that had debated the existence of such creatures. It wasn’t uncommon for him to lure John into debates, neither one sure which side they were arguing for as the conversation went on.

Rolling his eyes John went along with the debate for a few minutes before kicking Bones out of his bed, determined to get some sleep before his shift in the morning. It would be his luck to get the shift during breakfast, he grumbled to himself. He tried to block out the voices behind him as he drifted into an uneasy sleep, old memories drifting through his dreams as the conversation went on well into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for grigorisgadreel'shelp with beta-ing. She has beta'd everything so far, and for several more chapters at least. I owe her so much, and she has been really patient with me as I (slowly) work through this.


	3. Chapter 3

Dragging himself out of bed, John once again cursed at the awful luck that stuck him with this shift. The one o'clock transfer was always the worst. Never enough sleep beforehand and impossible to fall asleep afterwards. You were always tired the whole day. Pulling on a fresh shirt, he slowly made his way up to the deck, stretching as he emerged into the cool air.

 

The darkness outside was only slightly negated by the stars shining far above them. Turning, John noticed a thick layer of cloud overlaying the moon. That’s not gonna be any fun, he thought, sighing as he went to search for Charlie.

 

After a few minutes of wandering near the forecastle, he finally spotted a lantern flickering on the stern, just a bit out of sight . Walking around the mizzen, he spotted Charlie tucked away near the railing, a blanket draped around his shoulders.

 

Joining him, John leaned up against the rails, gazing at the island in front of them. Silence surrounded them, broken only by the gentle crashing of waves against the distant shore, barely loud enough to reach them all the way out here.

 

“Quiet all night?” John asked softly, words loud in their suddenness.

 

“Yea,” Charlie said, voice barely above a whisper as he stared down into the waters. “There was some splashing earlier, but didn’t see anything when I shone the light down,” he continued, never moving his eyes.

 

“Well, this close to shore, could be anything.” John laughed softly, grateful that there was some evidence of larger marine life; his wanderings earlier had shown precious few food sources on the island.

 

They both stood there a moment longer before Charlie finally shook his head and raised his eyes to John’s. “What do you think happened to Scotts? I mean honest,” he asked, voice tense with restrained worry. “He wasn’t the kinda man to wander off like that,” Charlie continued. “He was one of my mates, ya know, back in London. In fact, he got me this job”. Charlie’s gaze returned to the water, drawn in by something John couldn’t see.

 

“Never would have wandered off,” Charlie whispered, more to himself than John.

 

Confused by the sudden melancholy in the normally jolly sailor, John hesitated for a moment before speaking.

 

“I’m not certain,” he said honestly. “Why the sudden worry, though? I’m sure he’ll show up, not really anywhere else he could go”.

 

“What about the stories, though? What if they aren’t, well, stories?” the younger man asked.

 

John laughed for a moment before realizing that he was perfectly serious in asking his question. “What do you mean ‘if they aren’t stories’?” John asked, a smile still crinkling his face slightly. “Of course they are; there’s no way that something like a mermaid could exist. Not with all the science and such disproving those old wives’ tales,” John assured him. “We’ll go to breakfast tomorrow and Scotts will be there, sick as a dog from whatever he managed to get his hands on.” John patted the blond on the back. “Now go on, gonna be hard enough to get to sleep as it is. Don’t need heavy thoughts keeping you awake all night,” John chided.

 

For a second, it looked as though he was going to say something, but before John could ask, Charlie turned away and with a mumbled ‘night,’ wandered back to the bunks.

Trying to shrug off the lingering ill-content the conversation had left in the air, John turned away from the railing and began making his way around the ship. Humming to himself, John slowly let himself relax again and eventually settled into some of the ratlines to sit out the rest of his watch

OoOoO

Hours passed and all remained still. Not that John really expected much to happen; Lestrade was just worried that the pirates would return and find them in this precarious position. They had barely escaped the first attempt, and now that they were stranded in the shallows of an uncharted island, there was no way they would be able to ward off another attack. So for now, they would have to put up guards each night, despite being anchored.

 

Wandering around the deck, John cast about for something to occupy himself, trying to delay the inevitable drooping of his eyelids. Normally, he was rather good at staying awake throughout his shift, but tonight was proving to be an exception. Sighing, he eventually found himself back at the railing he and Charlie had been at, staring at the island once again.

 

Something was off about this island. He didn't know what, but he hoped they would be able to repair the boat and get out of here quick; nothing good would come of their being here. Settling his weight onto his forearms, he allowed himself a slight rest from standing, leaning on the railing, body pressing forward until he was nearly hanging over the side of the ship. He thought back to the shallows, the odd lack of fish once again catching his attention.

 

This island was remote, but there was more than enough for wildlife. Still, there were almost no creatures here; even the coral beds had shown only a few of the more resilient creatures. Frowning, he thought of the waters out here near the boat. Charlie had said he'd heard splashing, but none of the sailors had been able to catch anything all day. Lines had been cast over the sides since he left that morning to scout out the island. Something wasn't adding up.

 

John was pulled from his thoughts slowly as he became aware of a lingering sound in the air. For several minutes, there had been a melody weaving through his thoughts, so quiet, he had imagined it was just in his mind, but now he stopped and listened carefully to the darkness surrounding him.

 

Off to his left, he heard the slight strains of a song and began making his way over. Peering out into the ocean, he saw nothing, but the further he walked, the clearer the words became, until he was finally able to understand what was being sung.

 

_...heart is all but sold_

_There is nothing I can dream of_

_Except my sailor bold."_

 

Straining to see past the glare of his lantern, John tried to figure out where the song was coming from, leaning perilously close to the waters splashing along the hull. A deep baritone voice rumbled through the air, as soft and rippling as the tide, yet no less insistent.

 

The song stopped suddenly, leaving a deafening silence in its wake as he tried to hear something other than the crashing of distant waves.

 

John stood stock-still in the night, waiting for the song to come back, barely daring to breathe. After several minutes, he was forced to concede that there was nothing there, doubt beginning to trickle into his mind. Perhaps it was just his imagination; after all, he was tired and had been listening to old wives’ tales about mermaids all night. It really wouldn't be a surprise if he had imagined hearing something. But why would he have imagined a man's voice? Every story had told of female mermaids; after all, there was no such thing as a mer...man?

 

There's no such thing as mermaids at all, he chided himself, embarrassed at even having entertained the thought for the few seconds he had heard the song drifting over the water.

 

He was just tired; his shift was surely almost over by now and he could go lie down. When he woke up, he would be able to think more clearly about this; or not. Perhaps it was best just to delete this particular memory. He wasn't one to believe in fairy tales after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again all the thanks to grigorisgadreel, my beta. Hope y'all are liking this story so far, I'm sorry it's moving so slow :( remember to post any critiques or comments cause I love hearing from y'all!


	4. Chapter 4

Stumbling into the mess hall the next morning, John was struck by the silence that pervaded. Grabbing his portion of meat and a biscuit, he quickly made his way over to where Bones was sitting by himself near the back of the room.

"What's going on?" John asked softly, voice breaking through the hush of whispers louder than he had intended.

"Scotts never showed this morning," Bones said. John winced as several sailors looked over at them, glares making it obvious that they didn’t appreciate the flippant tone bones was using. "Stop that. It's not like half of us didn't expect this."

"He could just be passed out on the hold or something," John insisted, but his mind wandered back to the mysterious song he had heard last night Nathaniel’s tale still lingered in his mind, doubt once again beginning to form as he was forced to admit that he couldn’t think of a logical reason as to why he had heard a man singing.

Bones merely grinned at him from across the table but their conversation was brought to a halt when James plopped down next to the scientist. 

“Have you ‘eard the rumors millin’ around here?” James asked, a smirk lighting up his face. “Apparently they’re goin’ on about that mermaid tale Nathaniel was tellin’ last night. Say Scotts was taken by one of the wenches. Not that you ‘science’ folk believe in that, right?” he jibed, looking over at Bones. It had long been a source of argument between the two friends. While Bones was more than happy to hypothesise, his background simply wouldn’t allow him to dwell long on such fancy. James, however, was a believer through and through, having been raised on the tales since he was a child.

Laughing at Bones long-suffering look, James began tucking into his food, scarfing it down quickly. John grimaced slightly at the sight. James was nice enough but so many years at sea had effectively stripped him of whatever manners he may have had. 

Playing with his own food, John merely shrugged, but Bones began laughing.

“A mermaid?” he scoffed, looking around at the other crew members. “They can’t be serious!” 

“Why not?” James asked, frowning at the redhead. “It’s not like there’s much else it coulda been. We’ve checked all over the ship, and according to Dimmock, John said there wasn’t much on the island.” Gesturing at John, he resumed eating, looking rather smug at having the final say.

Recognizing a lost cause, Bones merely sighed and scraped up the last of his portion, rising quickly to head off to the crow’s nest. Apparently, he had seen a few species of birds that were uncommon back home and he wanted to document their numbers as well as he could.

The two men waved goodbye as Bones strode away. 

“So whaddya think?” James asked, raising a brow at him.

“I don’t know,” John said, lifting a fork full of meat to his mouth. “I mean, I doubt he coulda gone anywhere, but mermaids? That’s stretching it a bit far, mate.” 

James looked disappointed but he let the subject drop as the conversation turned to restoring the ship. 

Both men remained skeptical as to whether the repairs could be made from the supplies on the island, but until there was a better plan, Lestrade had ordered a portion of the men ashore to start cutting down trees to fashion into planks. After the two of them had finished their breakfast, they went their separate ways, James heading off to where Nathaniel and a few of the younger men were standing, waiting to go ashore. John made his way to the deck, looking around for Dimmock. After a few minutes, he found him near the near the mainmast.

Luckily, it seemed John would be staying aboard the ship this time and he gratefully made his way back to the bunks. Pulling his bag from under his hammock John quickly pulled some socks and a couple shirts out of it. All of which were sun-bleached and worn through in many places. Grabbing a needle from its holder, he set about sewing patches onto the worst of the holes; everything else could be stitched shut once he was finished.

As he worked, his mind stayed fixed on the problem that was the mysterious singer. There were really only three possibilities: one, he was crazy,two, a man on board was pulling his chain, or three, someone out there was singing.

As for the first, he found it unlikely that he had imagined the whole thing; his imagination simply wasn't that good. Mermaids, sure. He could daydream up something he had been told about, but the song lyrics were still echoing in his mind, the lyricism in them far beyond what he could achieve. His attempts at poetry were shoddy at best.

Alright, so option two then. Unfortunately, this one seemed just as unlikely; he had heard most the men men aboard sing at one time or another, and none came close to the deep baritone from last night.

John smiled as he remembered a night ashore; they had all been completely pissed, celebrating their first night on dry land in months. Everyone had gone to a small pub over on a Costa Rican island they'd been bringing tobacco to. At some point during the night, Scotts had climbed atop the table, singing at the top of his lungs an old chanty that nearly everyone knew, and those who didn't could quickly pick it up. The bawdy lyrics made everyone smile and laugh until their cheeks ached and tears ran down their faces. Except for Anderson of course; the boatswain had stubbornly refused all drinks offered to him, choosing to sit near the back of the group as he grumbled about them all making fools of themselves. None of them had particularly cared. John's smile faded a bit as the reality of Scotts’ disappearance truly hit him.

John hadn't been close to the man, but he had been friendly enough to everyone. Many nights, he would stay down here in the bunks, playing an old penny whistle and singing in his soft Irish brogue. John couldn't believe he was missing.

Certainly something was going on here, but whether his mysterious singer had anything to do with Scotts was unclear.

Pulling his mind back to the problem, John sighed. The only option that made any sense at this point was that the singing had come from someone off the ship. But he would have seen if there was another boat near them, no matter how dim the moonlight might have been. 

Picking up his needle again he managed to place a few more stitches before giving up and stowing the lot of it away again. It was obvious sitting here dwelling on it wouldn't do him any good. Maybe there was something he could do uptop.Determined to leave the whole tangle of thoughts behind him, John went off in search of something to occupy his mind.

OoOoO

Several hours later, John finally collapsed into his bunk, trying to rub the stiffness out of his sore shoulder. He had managed to get Dimmock to allow him to help with hauling the trees to the beach. Despite working all day, they had barely made a dent in the number of planks they would need to fashion to repair the hull. It would take months to gfinsih at this speed, and unfortunately, their rations wouldn't extend that far. This trip had only been scheduled for four months, a quick trip down to Africa and back. All they had on board was beads and furs from up north. Nothing terribly helpful in this case.

Shrugging off the melancholy that had shrouded him John rolled over and tried to get in a nap before his shift. At least this time he had first watch, plenty of time to to get back to sleep when he was relieved. Blocking out the muffled footsteps overhead he eventually managed to doze off.

OoOoO

An hour or two later, he was shaken awake by Anderson, the dark-haired man scowling down at him.

"Your shift," he said gruffly before turning away and shambling over to his own hammock. Within seconds, Anderson was asleep.

Rolling his eyes, John rolled out of his hammock and shuffled into a new pair of trousers. On deck, everything was quiet, most of the men already asleep. Grabbing a lantern from its spot next to the captain’s cabin, he struggled to light it, movements still clumsy with sleep. Once the wick finally caught he worked his way over to the bow of the ship, relaxing back into the small nook where the hull met. From here, he could see out into the ocean, the horizon spreading far past where his eyes could reach no sign of land in any direction.

The ship rocked gently, the tide pressing insistently against the portside. Closing his eyes, John let his head fall back into the ship, listening to the screeching of the gulls. After a few minutes, he forced himself to stand and do a few laps around the ship. It was no reason to slack off, but he found himself drawn to the small island again. Even from here, he could see the trees they had taken and put onto the beach, the large trunks standing out against the white sand.

Slowly, the last few muffled voices died down as the ship settled. The last of the sun dipped down and the colours slowly began to fade until there was nothing but a dusky blue, quickly darkening as though ink were being spilled across the sky.

Off to his left, John heard a splashing noise and he quickly went to investigate, glad to see that the other men had left the rods out in the hopes of some fish taking the bait during the night. Hopefully, whatever this was would grab at it and they would get some food for tomorrow. Any little bit helped when rations were limited. Glancing back at the cabins, he thought back to Nathaniel's story again. Tales of mermaids and certain doom were awfully far fetched. Even after mulling over every reason he had not to believe in the creatures, he still found himself returning to the simple fact that nothing else fit. Not drowning, not desertion. Nothing. Besides, from what he knew of Scotts and what Charlie had said, he wasn't a man to run off anyway. 

Thinking back to the conversation he had had with Charlie he was struck by how odd the other had acted during the conversation. At the time, he had dismissed it as sadness or worry, but even that didn't quite explain how distant the other had been. In fact, now that John thought about it, Charlie had also been acting a bit odd today, never quite focusing on the task as they worked onshore. Frowning, John considered confronting tCharlie curious as to whether he might hold a key to the puzzle. Just as he made up his mind to speak to Charlie, John heard splashing off to his left again. This time much louder than before.

He tried again to shine his light over the railings, illuminating the clear waters below. Nothing moved but the weeds, pushed around by the outcoming current. Refusing to believe it had been his imagination, John stood stock still, staring into the night until his arm grew heavy with the weight of the lantern he held aloft.

About to give up, John strained his eyes to see beyond his little ring of light, hoping to catch a glimpse of even the tell-tale slice of a shark’s fin; even if it would be unwelcome as they had to swim ashore, it would at least prove he wasn't crazy. Nothing. Then suddenly, a small flash of blue, flitting close to the boat for a second before disappearing underneath the hold.

Startled at the sudden appearance, John nearly dropped his light, catching himself at the last second as he stumbled slightly, automatically leaning forward to get a better look. Nearly laughing with relief, John hurried to the other side of the ship. Now that he knew there was some fish out there splashing around and driving him insane these past two nights, he just had to see it. 

Peering over the edge, he didn't see anything at first and he debated walking down the side of the ship - perhaps the fish had moved to the left or the right, - but it had seemed to be going straight ahead. Deciding to stay where he was, he waited a few more moments, his joy deflating slightly as doubt crept in. They hadn't seen any fish nearly that big around here; perhaps he had just wanted to find something so badly that he had imagined it. Finally, there was another splash; this time near the hull of the boat. Trying to angle the light further out John found himself leaning over the edge once again, the waters below barel churching, only the lightest of sprays hitting his face. As he stared, he saw a blue and white blur rise from the underside of the boat, clinging close to the ship. Pulling back slightly just in case whatever it was happened to be hungry, John stared eagerly. Squinting against the flame's glare near his face, John slowly began to make out a face in the water.


	5. Chapter 5

_Bloody hell_ , John thought to himself, shocked. He had been debating with the possibility all day, but never once had he imagined he would actually be confronted with proof. Not really. Slowly the creature, rose just above the surface of the water, waves gently lapping at his collar bone. _Male_ , John’s mind supplied helpfully as he gazed over the railings unsure whether to laugh or cry.

Dark curls the color of ink tumbled down to kiss the tops of his ears, each of which was pointed, a thin layer of webbing peeking through the midnight curls. grey eyes were tinged with the many colors of the sea, each one flickering through it's depths before disappearing, only to be replace by the next. currently those eyes were raking up and down John's face, seeming to lay him bare, the icy gaze ruthless.

Afraid to say anything lest he scare off the creature , John merely stared back seconds slowly turned into minutes as both remained silent. Finally John's had enough of the stalemate and slowly reached for the creature, careful to keep an eye lest he scare it away. Inch by inch his hand grew closer and never did the other move, instead starting staring intently at John's face, brow furrowed as though trying to figure something out.

Just as his finger was about to brush one of the curls on the creature's forehead it disappeared. Startled, John pulled back looking around for where it had gone, only seeing the ripple it had left behind in it's haste. Growling in John let his head sag down to the railings, eyes still fixed on the water just in case it appeared again.

There's no way I'm dreaming this John thought himself, only half convinced. After a few more moments he saw the inky curls emerge again, this time well out of arm's reach.

He couldn't help the broad smile that split his face when he saw the creature once more, and a hysterical giggle erupted from his mouth. his mind raced with the implications of this. If mermaids were real, why not the rest of the stories. _Hell, why not a kraken!?_ he thought to himself, not entirely sure that it wasn’t within the realm of possibility at this point.

The creature looked reproachfully at him, the effect only slightly ruined by the obvious curiosity still lingering in it’s gaze. After a few moments it swam a bit nearer, beginning to smile up at him. encouraged, John grinned down at it. “That’s right, not gonna hurt ya.”

Before he could say anything else the creature opened its mouth, a row of razor sharp teeth peeking out from behind full lips. Startled John froze, not sure whether he should try and move back away from the railings now that he saw how much damage the thing could do. The creatures teeth were thin, and smooth; distinctly predatory, but not all too different from a humans.

Struggling to keep himself still and not give into the instincts screaming at him to run John waited to see what would happen. It hadn’t tried to hurt him so far, so perhaps the teeth were just for grabbing fish, not for eating people.

The creatures face seemed to soften slightly as it looked at him, almost smiling though it’s eyes remained distant, seeming to take in every detail at once.  Tilting its head slightly it began to speak. Or, sing John quickly realized.  The melody was instantly recognizable as the song he had heard the other night, only the lyrics were different.

_ “One day as I was swimming _

_Through the ocean blue...”_

Leaning down a little bit John was rewarded with a small smile as the creature came closer still, it’s song never stopping.

_“I saw a jolly sailor_

_With eyes that sparkled true”_

They were nearly close enough to touch now, the blown out pupils in the mermaid’s eyes clearly visible at this distance. John had to work hard to tear his own away, something about the situation seeming off.

The creature seemed to sense his hesitation, its song speeding up slightly as distress flickered over it’s face.

_“His hair is touched by sunlight_

_His eyes like gemstones shine”_

The words almost seemed pleading now, as though begging him to stay where he was.  Just a few inches now separated them. The entreating expression on the creatures face seemed to slip slightly, triumph shining through and giving John a slit seconds notice.

It reached its arm up, hand extended to John, beckoning him closer as it lowered it’s voice to a whisper. Tempted to lean in and hear the rest of the lyrics John hesitated a moment, oddly compelled to lean in the last few feet.

It seemed to realize how close John was to closing that distance because the creature suddenly smiled, a brief flicker of satisfaction crossing its face. The flash of white teeth reminded John of how dangerous the creature was; after all, he had searched it out under the assumption that it had eaten one of his crew mates.

He pulled away, stepping back a few feet until he was securely on the deck. Just as he moved the merman surged up, fingers barely scraping John’s wrist as he reeled backwards. Shocked, all John could do was stare at the creature as it sunk back down, glaring resentfully up at him.

Just then John heard Wiggins calling for him, voice muffled. “Over here.” John called, taking his eyes off the creature. When he turned back it was gone, a few ripples all the remained of the merman.

Pausing a moment John waited to see if it would emerge again before heading back to the cabins, handing the lantern off to Wiggins on his way.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this, I do have several chapter's written and the rest plotted out, but I have a full time job and am a full time student so I don't know how often this will be updated. Hopefully a minimum of once a month. (I know, that's pathetic, but I have a billion projects right now)
> 
> Also: all tags and warnings etc will be updated chapter by chapter as I am still deciding exactly how far I want to go with this. I will also rate it once I get a better idea of what this story will entail.


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